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ELEPHANTE DAY SPECIAL
Stomping with paws huge-sized.
Yellow wings are quivering,
"My peanut's gone!" he cries.
He's desperate, poor Elephante,
Who craves for tiny treat.
Without that one last peanut, see,
His meal is incomplete.
Jewelled hat upon his head,
Swinging, the thick trunk.
He searches for his missing nut,
Sifting through much junk.
Drawers ruffled, tables checked,
Eyes scan each inch of ground.
Elusive is lost peanut, though,
It just cannot be found!
"I want my nut!" Elephante wails,
"My shelled and crunchy treat!"
Seeking tiny brown peanut,
In every bookshelf neat;
O'er the garden where gnomes stand,
Inside the box of mail;
Even under every bed...
But all to no avail.
Determined is the Elephante,
His search shall ne'er halt.
Caring not of where he steps,
Indeed, a costly fault.
Giant paw stomps o'er the floor,
'Tis then when peanut's found.
Shattered pieces of a shell...
"What was that crunchy sound?"
Welcome to the Pharmacy
Elephante in clean white coat
Glances up as you arrive.
She quickly scribbles penciled note
Then meets you with a friendly smile.
"Welcome to the Pharmacy,
Where all your needs are met.
Our medicines are guaranteed
To cure your ailing pet."
Her eyes are honest, amber gold.
She hopes to give what help she can.
A lie her lips have never told,
She folds her gentle, pale blue hands.
You tell her what you need today.
She's gone for just a moment then,
Searching through her wide array
Of cures, and then she's back again.
"I've got the perfect thing for you,
I really hope it helps your pet.
It's worked for many others, too,
No need to worry. Don't you fret."
A smile, a wave, then next in line
Steps up to ask for remedy.
She works all day beneath the sign:
"Welcome to the Pharmacy."
Elephante of the Gypsy Camp
"Flames, I call you, dance on high,
Draw close, my friends, draw near."
Gypsy sits by fire's breath,
His tale you must hear.
"I tell a story of the past,
A town rotting away.
Of Sophie's life and one Usul,
Who had to save the day."
As the Elephante doth speak,
Enticing seems his voice.
Creating visions on the wind,
You're caught up without choice.
He spins a tale ages old,
With practised skill and ease.
His caravan, a sentinel,
Against the raging breeze.
Against the flicker of each flame,
His eyes glow dark as coal.
Each word a warning of the woods,
That grips your very soul.
His camp becomes an open stage,
As story does play out.
Gypsy speaks in rumbling tones,
Until the flames die out.
Tale told, he shall sit back,
Shadows consume the light.
Moustache twirled above stout trunk,
He bids you now goodnight.
You glance around and he is gone,
The woods are cold and stark.
Hurry off and do not dwell,
Near this place after dark.
So You Think You Know Elephantes
Here's a riddle for the few of you
Who in the following sphere
Of knowledge arcane, a certain degree
Of expertise claim:
On the Trunked Ones will I quiz you,
And on one Elephante specifically --
But if you know your Elephantes,
You'll figure out who he is easily.
First things first, he is a he --
So you can cross out Siddande,
Neepa, and Bibble, too.
Secondly, he is brown as the oak's bark,
With tusks of white and eyes quite dark --
What's that? A guess already?
Khadir from the Tug-O-War, you say?
A clever guess, but no --
Now let me finish, okay?
Thirdly, he is hairy as a Walking Carpet,
And twice as fluffy -- and so he is not Mahut
Of Sakhmet City fame,
Nor is he Lord Splunch
Of the Gourmet Club Bowls game.
Fourthly, he is muscular, and burly, and buff --
But no, he's not Scarblade's Quartermaster,
Though they look equally rough.
And final clue, is that he'd
Move mountains to defend you. And if,
Maybe, you still haven't figured it
Out, the answer is hidden in this stanza; he's
The Defenders of Neopia giant with a
Huge marshmallow for a heart.
The Tinkered Trinket Seller
She's an ecstatic Elephante
And a pure perfect pet,
She's a wonder in the workroom
And you ain't seen nothing yet!
She makes things from twisted metal,
To design, she loves to do,
She's the Tinkered Trinket Seller,
Making things to sell to you!
She's inventive on the inside,
Oil-covered on the out,
When her creations give a whistle,
You can't help but start to shout!
For all the things that you could think of,
All the knicks and all the knacks,
She can create them in an instant,
As her ideas begin to stack.
She's the Tinkered Trinket Seller,
And her mind is always moving.
She sells the things that make you crazy
And the things that you find soothing.
She will never have a dull day --
Imagination is her key.
She creates the finest trinkets,
But only charges some NC!
We thank the Trinket Tinker
For her hard work in the Mall,
But today's for Elephantes
To have a break, and have it all!
So let's give the Trinket Tinker
What she deserves: a celebration!
Because we all agree, we could not go,
Without her wonderful creations!
Total Poetry Pages : 2250
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